Naval Base Kayrin, Kiavalar
August 12, 2526 XY
A tall balding man sat at a desk, enjoying a cup of black tea while reading through a cluster of papers. These included everything from weekly reports, postings, inquiries, and the occasional request from his subordinates. In truth, he didn't pay attention to them. It's not like he needed to anyways. Most, if not all, were thoroughly reviewed by this staff. Even then, at least a dozen competent eyes had seen to any issues within them. As he lazily read through the last few, his mind drifted. After what felt like hours, he was relieved of the gruelling task. Signing at certain places or writing a follow-up on some of the aforementioned requests, he moved on. He found himself slumped in his chair. The idea bemused him, one of the more important high-ranking admirals within the navy showing such blatant disregard for discipline. His younger self would never like that. But then, would the physical discipline of an important high-ranking admiral matter?
'No, that's a stupid thought.' He stopped himself from going further. He needed a change of pace, at this rate, he'll drive himself mad. In his defence, this was one of the more uneventful days by a mile. He was up and about around the room, looking for something to do. Eventually, he found himself in front of a small bookshelf on the far side of his office. Browsing through his collection, he had a tough time picking. There were quite a few that he hadn't finished yet and a few still that he hadn't even touched. At first, he tried to go through the last few chapters of the Codex Tupalei'i, but that never enraptured him. He barely managed to get a few pages of the 'West Alaxian Maritime History' in before losing his focus and eventually closing the book.
Returning to his desk, he helped himself to another mug of tea. It was losing its heat, that wouldn't do. Making a mental note to fill it up and reheat himself later. 'Never imagined being Seamarshal would be this dull,' he mused as he placed a hand on his wine-coloured navy cap. The silver cap badge gleaned against his table lamp since the weather outside appeared cloudy. A sharp knock forced him to straighten his shoulders as he cleared his throat. "Come in," he exclaimed in a soft authoritative tone.
A staffer walked in, worry plastered all over her face. "Sir, we have lost contact with Ethelen Base, their last transmission was a report of a storm developing on their sensors."
'Well, so much for dull,' he thought as she handed him the report, his expression turning puzzled. "Why have we not heard from RMA or hell, high command?" he questioned, a hundred thoughts running through his mind.
As if on cue, a junior officer walked in. The officer fired a quick salute and started "Sir, you have been requested within the command room. It is..." the officer hesitated. "Well, it's best if you see it for yourself."
The man got up, put on his cap, and made his way toward the command room. He was trailed by a retinue of officers forming around him. He had been within the command room a thousand times, yet none of its details particularly came to mind right now. His focus was entirely on the collection of screens at the end of the room, with many people huddled around them.
"Watch-p-point I-Idol went dark!" One of the technicians stammered. He was a new fellow, anxious and inexperienced.
"Bases Compass, Nest, and Beacon all have failed to report in. Bastionne reports of a large storm system quickly forming off the Cralasian coast," another chimed in. Hell had broken loose, and men went in and out of the command room handling reports, communique, and assignments. The commanding staff was flabbergasted, though they did not show it. Was this an attack? What's with the sudden spontaneous storm? Many of the officers were discussing theories and relaying orders.
All of them were interrupted as a telephone on the central table of the command room rang. They froze, knowing the secured landline could only be connected to a single place. The man went to the table and picked up the receiver. "This is Seamarshal Illyen Kanbiran."
"Illyen, how much do you know?" A deep gravelly voice on the other side spoke vaguely. Illyen knew who this was, for he had served under him for 15 years. The entire navy served under him for a period longer than that.
"Lord High Seamarshal," he replied, instinctively straightening his back and acknowledging his superior. "Nothing much I'm afraid. What is going on, Selarin?" he added.
"Several storm systems have developed near the high kingdoms; the RMA and RARI are saying they have no idea how it happened or why they developed so quickly..." The man paused. "Illyen, the KARD council has been called. I want you here in Espiery before the storm hits."
Arzenhall, Espiery
August 15, 2526 XY
He stood in front of a portrait that bore his likeness. He looked to his right, where similar portraits hung on the wall hoisting the faces of the rest of his predecessors. He wondered if he could live up to them. Many of his critics thought he might have an easier time given his heritage, yet to him, it meant more responsibilities and expectations. He shifted past the portrait of his grandmother, then those of her successors, and finally to a vacant plaque that held only the name; 'Gerard Gildirim c'el Richelieu'.
He imagined his 10 years as the Kiavalari Chancellor would net him some confidence in preparation for his new office or help him tackle his responsibilities. Yet it didn't, "Nothing prepares you, does it grandmother?" he thought aloud. Despite his anxiety, he found himself smiling. His term began in relative peace, and it has been so ever since. His hopes remained high and his enthusiasm grew, for he had much to accomplish. His trail of thoughts was interrupted by a series of footsteps.
"Mr. President, all the High Lords have arrived," voiced an aide as Gerard turned towards him. With a nod of affirmation, he swiftly made his way to the meeting room, his footing reserved and quiet. It was a comparatively small room with a screen hung on the back wall, a large oval table in the centre, and a curtain wall made from one-sided glass on the eastern side. Many councillors were seated at the table itself, though many more non-member invitees had come to listen in or provide input throughout deliberations. Gerard took his seat at the far end of the council and waited. All those present had an air of authority surrounding them, their posture strong. Each of them was essential in running the complex statecraft of the High Kingdoms. Foremost of them were the five leaders of the constituent nations. Their power, while limited to their individual constituents, extended far into the federal government through the sheer influence of their name alone. Alongside them were the cabinet ministers of the federal government and the many generals and admirals of the highly valued High Kingdoms Armed Forces. Together these venerated few could facilitate entire wars, the toppling of economies, and the fates of many nations. One robust man with a great beard cleared his throat, summoning the attention of all those within the room as Gerard took a seat.
"Greetings Councillors, this is session one of the 67th KARD Council meeting, our main agenda today is the quickly developing super-storm. Mr. Peter, could you perhaps bring our colleagues up to speed?" The Premier was a very direct and serious man, in stark contrast to Gerard. Gerard could hardly tolerate him. However, past circumstances forced the Premier's elevation to the position of Vice-President. The role was usually ceremonial, more to affirm the line of succession and secure the party's power than anything else. Yet Gerard had to assign that unbearable man to this role. He had no real choice. He barely won the elections and the mood in parliament was livid, to say the least. Gerard's party was in the minority, and he needed the support from its erstwhile rivals. To that end, the Premier became the Vice President.
Gerard was lost in this contemplation, distracted from what was being said. When his mind came back to it, another man was speaking. It was a young man possessing a lean face and curly blonde hair that exposed his Empheri origins. "-in essence, things look grim. As of yet, we cannot identify or otherwise make sense of much of the storm's properties. It is expected that landfall will be made in 13 hours on the shores of Kiavalar, where it will eventually fan out slowly from eastern Ahitereira and Empherias to cover all of East Alaxia. Due to sheer size alone, we can estimate heavy damage to infrastructure and a tremendous loss of life." he spoke, wearing a very grim expression.
Gerard let that bore in, it was hardly a simple matter. He'd rather deal with Cralasian insurgents than this. After a period of brief silence, the room carried on. Another man began to speak, whom he recognised as the environment minister "Mr. President, esteemed councillors, while by all accounts, the estimated loss of life would be high, but if we-"
"If we what Mathias?" the Premier bit back with venom in his words. Anor's face, Gerard couldn't stand him. The Premier continued, "We can't, and we won't be using the military as a disaster relief force, let alone as a preventative force. Any such discussions should be off the table!" Gerard imagined the premier would slam his fist on the table to further emphasise his dissatisfaction. Yet to his amused disappointment, no such action came. Instead, the Marshal of the Army Engineers spoke up "I don't think the M.E.D.I.K program is such a bad idea. Our engineers are surely capable. They're certainly more professional, so they'd work faster."
"That isn't the crux of the issue, is it? It provides for certain logistical and security challenges, not to mention harder. Why not just strengthen elements of the existing gendarmerie public response forces?" asked the head of the intelligence department.
"Well, are there any short-term alternatives? Surely, it is worth it if it means saving more lives and shoring up against any major infrastructural damage." Another minister spoke his mind.
This went on for gods know how long. The discourses were more akin to arguments and it irked Gerard. Eventually, the matter was settled and they moved on to other issues on hand. Temporary laws, specifics of response force deployments, curfews, and even matters of studying the storm. For Gerard, it was a slog. He had to use a great deal of willpower to stifle yawns. Eventually, near the end, the Chief Secretary of Foreign Affairs finally spoke, for she was quiet for most of the meeting. "Fellow councillors, I believe we have yet to discuss one worrying issue. We spent hours discussing policies that should have been decided on as soon we found ourselves in this mess. At this rate, the post-disaster response would be even slower and more damaging. In this regard, I propose we allow the enactment of Executive Order 66."
Silence.
The room was in disbelief, Gerard even more so. He shot glaring eyes at the Chief Secretary. 'Why,' he asked without words but she made no reply. Truth be told, he knew exactly why, a part of him even rationalised that it had been done. Executive Order 66 granted the President emergency powers, effectively letting him make his own decisions, without the bureaucratic legwork. Of course, such an Order could only come from the King, but all that could and would probably be arranged if the people in the room agreed now. Was it really what Gerard wanted? The weight of responsibility would be immeasurable. Not to mention the backlash from his rivals. Already the Premier was voicing his disapproval. The room slowly descended into chaos. Everyone voiced their opinion, and some insults and accusations were hurled. Everyone was silenced by the commanding voice of the Empheri Prime Minister "This might not be a bad idea. I think Chief Secretary Evelyn's point had been made when we devolved into an argument over this matter. I will be plain councillors, the state of the Union is grim this proves the very fact. Yet despite my government's policy and stance, I agree with Chief Secretary Evelyn. This needs to be done." Prime Minister Valorie was a staunch nationalist, some might even call her party secessionists. For her to support giving the head of the union more powers, emergency or not, meant a lot.
"Aye, we need strong leadership now, at least for the moment. This has my support," exclaimed the coarse-voiced Chief Minister of Defense.
"As does mine," added the Chief Minister of the Treasury.
'Were they planning this?' asked Gerard to himself. He cast a side-eye towards the Premier, his face one of incredulity. This made Gerard happy, at least that was one consolation. It seemed the path was clear now, there remained no vocal advocate against the proposal. All that remained was for him to unofficially accept the proposal and for an official letter to be drafted to the king. He began to speak.
"Cou-"
A bright flash. He was interrupted by a streak of light emanating from the far wall. Light passed through the shutters covering the windows. Everyone turned towards the great plume of light. It reminded Gerard of the tests of '85 and '90. Was this an attack? Something related to the storm? He did not know. A part of him, his intuition perhaps knew, something big had happened. And things would never be the same anymore.
Northern Reaches, Kua-Toine
August 16, 1639, CCY
Patima was a dragon rider, part of a prestigious regiment. His assignment was simple enough, to patrol the northern fringes of their principality. The waters far below him gleaned under the far-reaching sky. He knew his assignment was redundant. Even if the aggressive Rowlians were stupid enough to conduct surprise attacks emanating from this far, it wouldn't take wyvern patrols to detect them. Yet they remained there just the same, redundancy and caution were what kept their force running for so long. Despite the relatively peaceful nature of the scenery and situation, Patima couldn't keep his mind off the potentially looming conflict with Rowlia. 'Could they stand up to the southern giant?' he pondered. His thoughts were swept aside by a gentle shudder from his wyvern. It tugged at its reins, signalling him to scan his surroundings. He was no longer alone in the air.
It started with a speck, a grain on the horizon followed by a constant sound he could not identify. His mind started racing. 'Something from the major civilisations? A Rowlian weapon?'
He activated his magical comms, "Wyvern Squadron 6-3 to command, an unusual object in the sky. Investigating." He didn't wait for a reply, tugging at his wyvern to edge towards the now exponentially larger spec. 'The hell? Did it grow?" His mind continued with questions and counterquestions. He reached for his comms once again but paused. The noise, now obviously emanating from the incoming object, grew even louder into an endless ever-increasing shrill.
'Nope. It is just fast,' he deduced against better judgment, urging his mount forward to try and intercept it. "Command beware, the object appears to be moving fast, bearing towards Maihark. Attempting to intercept. Request assistance." he said into the receiver.
As the object closed, he could see that it was triangular, a strange shade of teal in colour. He could also identify two round patterns on the wings, circles overlapping each other. A myriad of colours became a blur to him. He underestimated its speed and before he could even react, it flew past him. It left behind a great gush of wind. He veered off course, nearly losing his stability. As he regained composure and footing, he turned. 'Just how fast is this beast?' he asked himself again. No, it could not have been a beast. He didn't discern any flapping wings or anything moving. It was as if a great arrow shot from a god's bow.
"Command beware, object lost, it is accelerating too quickly. It is heading for Maihark. Repeat. Object lost. Accelerating too quickly. It is heading for Maihark."
A second later, a reply came. "Wyvern Squadron 6-3 acknowledged. Please ensure no other such objects are in the sky. We'll take it from here."
Maihark, Qua Toyne
August 16, 1639, CCY
Gods be damned, how would they take it from here? Not many beasts could outpace a wyvern. Whatever it was, was now making its way towards Maihark. The operator cleared his mind, now was not the time to panic. "This is Wyvern Command to 6th Wyvern Squadron, all knights beware, an unidentified object making its way towards Maihark at incredible speed, bearings relayed. Please acknowledge. We cannot let it reach Maihark," he voiced into his magical receiver. A series of acknowledgments followed.
He did not wait for long. As soon as he received the last acknowledgment, he got up and notified the commanding officer. The officer stared at him with wide eyes. "Good heavens, I must notify the-"
He was cut off by a foreign sound emanating and rising from all around him. Soon, the operator identified the source. An object, no larger than a wyvern, coming from the same bearing as in the report transmission. This had to be it. As it drew closer, he could spot scorch marks on the object. He was certain the 6th Squadron made contact, and he would need to check with them, if they even survived. But beforehand, he prepared for the object to commence its attack. Behind him, shouts and orders were drowned out by the omnipresent sound. It didn't matter, no response would arrive in time. Yet as seconds ticked by, nothing happened. The object flew in circles for a while before Qua Toyne's response finally came. It came in the form of a hail of anti-wyvern ballistae. They had been there as a precaution really, meant for rogue wyverns. It didn't matter anyhow, he doubted the bolts could even hit the beast, if it was a beast. The lack of any flapping wings irked him. It looked like an automata of Old Night. The beast swerved up as the bolts closed, spewing out streaking red and yellow fireballs that slowly fizzled into nothing. Then with great agility, it rose high, beyond the reach of any wyvern, and quickly disappeared into the horizon.
Such things had only happened in ancient myths. He was left shocked, still processing what he had seen. This whole ordeal could have been disastrous. Perhaps whatever beast that was felt mercy. Perhaps the gods were feeling kind and forced it away. Perhaps it was something else entirely. Regardless of the reason, relief struck him as he returned to his station to check up on the 6th Squadron.
Some distance away in a large ornate building, a meeting was being held. Prime Minister Kanata listened to the report, and he did not like what he was hearing at all. A flying object, potentially mechanical or magical in nature... moving faster than a wyvern... reaching far up into the sky... dropping small fireballs, although the latter was a dubious part of the report. As the attendants discussed possibilities, they had two prevailing theories. To the far west, the great empire of Mu had reported objects of similar design and description. While the ones assailing them could not have been from the Mu as the nation was two continents away, it might have been an export bought by the Parpadians or even the Lourians. Such a thing would mean an extreme intelligence failure on part of Qua Toyne. Another possibility was the rumours of a new rising empire in the far west. This too was highly unlikely due to distance, but Kanata wished to be thorough in his analysis. As such, he made sure no stone was left unturned.
The meeting went on. "This is grave news, regardless of where the origin is. Such acts are to be taken as hostile. We already have matters to deal with in the South. We must discover the source and deal with it, peacefully if possible. If circumstances demand it, we must also explore the options of dealing with it with force." Kanata spoke with determination. This was followed by nods and a follow-up discussion on things to do.
All of it was interrupted by an aide rushing into the room. "Sir!" the aide exclaimed. "Our patrols have detected large ships in the north. They are heading towards Qua Toyne."